


Innamorare

by darkmochecoffee



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Human/Vampire Relationship, I really don't know what happened, I'm Sorry, M/M, MAMA Era Powers (EXO), Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Please Don't Hate Me, Reincarnation, Vampires, this is my first fantasy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-02 19:10:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21166517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmochecoffee/pseuds/darkmochecoffee
Summary: For the first time in nearly five hundred years, Jongin feels human again.





	Innamorare

**Author's Note:**

> FOR PROMPT: L4 
> 
> i'm so new to the fantasy genre of ficdom (my vanilla slice of life ass was intimidated) thank you mods for the patience
> 
> and to my prompter, dear god, i don't know how this happened. and i think i might have strayed too far from the original idea? don't hate me please.

The sun has long set. The night is palpable and made bleaker by the ravages of weather. He does not feel anything on his skin, not the coldness of rain and hail, neither the soft earth that sinks beneath his feet. He only feels his prey.

He barely hears the fledgling woman gasp when he drains her life. Ivory fangs extend and dig into a pale neck. The woman shakes in his hold, the tips of her fingers tremble as they futilely grapple against the deathly cold arm around her body. It is over in minutes. And like the demon that he is, he watches with acute fascination as the woman’s eyes roll to the back of her head. When he releases his hold, the lifeless body kisses the dirt ground, pale as paper. His magic works immediately when the woman disintegrates into dust.

Blood always tastes the same. The iron is almost tart in his tongue, it is the only taste he remembers. Jongin has been __this__ in nearly half a millennium, amongst other things, he has forgotten how to be human. The feeding always makes him shake as blood that is not his course through his body and ignites his being. For a fraction of a second, Jongin’s past life passes through his mind. It is the spectre of memories his brain had stashed to its deepest recesses.

And then it hits, the recoil. His entire body burns, like the sun itself scathing his skin. Jongin braces himself for the familiar pain, he stays very still as it passes excruciatingly tortuous; it folds his body in half. And then it’s over and Jongin once again reaffirms the price of his abhorred immortality.

Unfamiliar warmth seeps through Jongin’s skin - freezing in his perpetual undeath - followed by a deep voice. “Are you -”

Jongin, impossibly light on his feet, extends to his full height and turns. He is about to dig nails onto the radiating heat underneath him if it were not for beautiful amber eyes assimilating his vision. The man’s smile falters from his perfect face. “-alright, sir?”

Jongin leaps off him in an instant. The recoil still carves a path through his body, residual pain not as heavy as when it hit him initially. “I am fine.”

Belatedly, he notices the pelting of rain against his skin. The man resembles a drenched canine when he tries to rise to his full height. Jongin holds out an arm, hoping that the man would chalk his freezing skin to the inclement nature.

“I’m Chanyeol.” The man introduces with a deep bass tone. He shakes and Jongin notices this because he can feel the tremble of his fingers. “I have a bakery down the block. Do you want to come in? It’s storming out here.”

Jongin wants to laugh. He could snap this man’s neck in a second, he would have been dead even before he feels the pain. But there he is, standing in front of Jongin without a nick of fear in his amber eyes. Jongin is unbelievably enthralled.

“Mister?”

“Alright.” is Jongin’s short acquiesce. Jongin has not felt this alive in centuries. “Thank you.”

//

Jongin has seen the bakery before. It is the only decent establishment in this place hounded by poverty and disease. But he has never seen Chanyeol, with his long jet black hair tied and pulled away from his face. The man wears such shabby clothes; his coat is patched beyond recognition.

The bakery connects to a tiny house. The place strongly smelt of baked bread, tinges of cocoa and coffee. Jongin watches Chanyeol ignite the lamp that casts light onto the wooden floor.

“I’ve never seen you around here, mister.” He shrugs off his damp coat and hooks it by the door. “Weather’s bad these days. You can stay for a while, or until it clears out.”

“That is kind of you.” Jongin says. He feels ludicrous, following this kind stranger with complete knowledge of his would be reaction when Jongin finally admits that he is not particularly human. “Call me Jongin.”

“It’s a terrible place, isn’t it Jongin?” Chanyeol flicks his gaze to Jongin. The smile on his face is between resigned and sad. “Lots of people starting to get all fucked up. Everyone’s either sick, starving, dying or a combination of all three.” The human moves to the fireplace where he boils a pot of water. Jongin stands in a dark corner and if Chanyeol will look closely, he will probably notice that Jongin is not even breathing. It is especially worse as spectral effects of the recoil lend Jongin a pallor that would have made him resemble a corpse in daylight.

Chanyeol remains quiet before he hums a slow tune to himself. “Are you one of them?”

“Pardon, I do not understand.” Jongin says. His voice is low, merely above a whisper.

“Don’t pretend.” Chanyeol chuckles, “If you’re hungry, I can give you bread, there’s no need to rob me. I’ve been there before and it was quite harrowing.”

“I am not here to rob you.” Jongin says. There is a peculiar tingling in his skin.

“Oh.” Chanyeol looks as if he is ashamed of the things he had accused Jongin of. Jongin is far from offended. “I apologize. Do you want tea?”

Jongin cannot resist him for some reason. He nods. Chanyeol serves two cups and Jongin pretends to drink. The liquid is inherently tasteless for Jongin. The silence breaks when a knock resonates through the tiny space. Chanyeol stands up and heads for the rickety door. Jongin does not need to look to know that the the visitors are human children. Jongin can hear their blood rush; he can almost taste their vitality in the roof of his tongue. If it were not for the fact that he is four centuries old, he would have lost control then and there.

“Chanyeol!”

The screech is almost intolerable. Jongin fights the urge to extend his fangs.

Chanyeol lets out a chuckle. “Good evening Sanha. Come in, you’re going to get sick.” The children file into the room, all drenched. They smile at Chanyeol, and they all look like skin hanging off a pile of bones. Jongin does not even need to put the littlest of force, his mere touch will pulverize them. He watches idly as Chanyeol distributes bread. The man grins while he does and Jongin notices Chanyeol’s visage which is pale and sickly.

“How’s your mother?” Chanyeol looks at the girl he calls Sanha, and pours another cup of tea for himself. “Is she well?” Sanha eats almost voraciously. After she swallows, the girl shakes her head. “Father says we might have to say goodbye to her soon.”

It does not matter. Jongin thinks. He settled upon this place for this reason. Everyone seems to just die whether by sickness or by Jongin and no one gives a damn. Life goes on, like a macabre circus that nobody ever watches. He stares at Chanyeol who seems unsettled by the revelation. He puts his chipped cup on the wooden table and sighs. “Oh.”

Jongin has had enough of this pitiful show of human softness. People and their emotions as fragile as thin glass are pathetic. They think death is a sentence and not a gift. If they only knew what immortality entailed; Jongin wants to laugh. He stands up, tries to act as human like as possible. Sanha looks at him as if Jongin held the secrets of the universe.

The vampire acknowledges the girl’s presence with a short nod. She smiles at him. Her eyes turning into little crescents. For half a second, Jongin forgets what he is.

“Hello.” Sanha says. Jongin labels her as some sort of talking bag of bones. He does not speak to her, he merely turns to Chanyeol and thanks him for the tea and bids a quiet goodbye. He hears the humans speak, their voices loud and clear in the seemingly endless night that eventually claims him.

//

Days blend into each other and years pass by like the ticking of the minute hand. Jongin does not count, he allows himself to mold into the passage of time. For him, it is endless and it proves no point to look forward to days that will eventually come and go behind him.

So when he sees Chanyeol again. He is unsure of how long it has been. The man seemed to have changed, he has grown thinner somehow, and his long hair is chopped short.

It is past midnight and the lamp that burned near Chanyeol’s bakery illuminates gaunt bodies. Jongin sees the humans clearly: six emaciated looking adolescents with dubious intent glinting in their eye.

Jongin is part of the palpable night, and he does nothing else but watch the humans interact. They are such fascinating creatures, their inanity is a spectacle.

“We want money.”

He seems to be the oldest of the bunch, the rest of the boys look up to their defacto leader with an insane sort of admiration, as if they will do everything that comes out of his mouth even if it took their lives in the process. Jongin assumes that hunger drives everyone crazy in the long run, it would not surprise him if the humans ended up killing each other for little bread, then and there.

Chanyeol backs away from the group and he ends underneath the shine of the lamp. Jongin notices the cuts and bruises mapping through the man’s skin. For an ephemeral second, Jongin decides that he did not not like seeing the baker in that state. It is merely an afterthought for Jongin does not meddle in the affairs of human beings. What his prey get up to in their mundane every day lives does not concern him the slightest.

“I don’t have money.” The bass of Chanyeol’s voice reverberates in the stillness of the night. “You’ve taken everything from me.”

The leader of the bunch closes the distance between himself and Chanyeol. He then cuffs the baker, uncaring of the difference in their stance and brings the latter near his face. Jongin notices the madness glinting in his eyes.

“You will give us what we ask, or we kill you. Isn’t that the bargain Chanyeol?”

“I don’t have anything.”

The adolescent processes this and when it sinks, he brings a foot to Chanyeol’s chest. The baker falls to the dirt ground, Jongin hears the pained wheeze that left his lungs.

“Then we’ll kill you, freak.”

Chanyeol stands on unstable legs, like a fawn learning how to walk. It is futile but Jongin admires his grit. “Fuck off.” He throws a seemingly steady punch, a strong fist connects to a jaw.

Humans are truly fascinating, Jongin surmises as chaos unfolds before his eyes. They have such an inherent nature that required a certain level of violence to acquire something that could have easily been dealt with through words. Skin meets skin, bones break, and blood is shed.

“You’re going to fuckin’ die if the money isn’t in my hands next week. Believe me.” One of the boys spits near Chanyeol’s face as a crude form of good bye before they all turn and leave.

When Chanyeol kisses the ground for a second time, Jongin is driven by a compelling urge to move, to do something, to protect. It is a peculiar feeling and yet he did not think twice when he lifted the baker’s battered body and brought him to shelter.

//

Jongin dreams in daylight. His mind conjures images, memories from his long forgotten humanity. He cannot control what he sees but he does remember them when he is awake. He can distinguish fantasy from reality.

In this, Jongin is a young boy. It is spring time and the gardens are in full bloom. He sees a woman. Her face is nothing but a blur but her voice reminds Jongin of peaceful times. She might be his mother or someone he cherished. She shows him a multicolored Gladiolus, the symbol of their family.

“The Gladiola mean strength, darling.” The voice begins, and in this dream she forms the flowers into a circlet and places it on top of Jongin’s hair. The dream woman giggles. “I hope that you will be as beautiful as the Gladiolus, my love. Beautiful and strong, that is my life’s wish.”

In his dream, Jongin does not answer.

When his eyes open, it is a draping canopy made of thick, velvet cloth that he sees. Outside, the night begins. Jongin arises from his bed and lights the lamps in his room which cast ominous shadows onto the wooden floor. It has been a day since he brought the human to his home. Jongin understands that he has made such an erroneous stand. He should have left Chanyeol to die, then and there. But a magnetic pull made him move the human’s battered and malleable body. He cannot find any reason that would justify what he had done so Jongin simply ignores the warnings of his intuition.

He moves through the house and enters the room where he had left the human. Chanyeol is still asleep but his wounds have been treated, courtesy of Jongin. He looked so peaceful just lying there and Jongin would have been contented to simply stare at the human’s face. Chanyeol is quite a picturesque sight. He is beautiful, Jongin finally decides.

When Chanyeol awakes, his eyes slowly open, searching. When their gazes meet, he says nothing at first. Jongin passes the human the glass of water he procures from the bedside table and after Chanyeol gingerly takes a sip, he speaks. “Where am I?”

“You are in my house.” Jongin answers. “Those people beat you to an inch of your life.”

Chanyeol chuckles, “Too bad, I’m still alive. How long was I out?”

“A day.”

“Sorry for imposing on you, Jongin. You didn’t have to do that though.”

Jongin shakes his head. “I did not enjoy watching you die. You can stay, you are still healing.”

Chanyeol volleys his gaze, his expression is easily read. “Do I know you?”

Jongin stares and with words laced of gentle hypnosis, Chanyeol falls asleep.

The sun peeks through a sky filled of cumulus clouds. Jongin can feel the burning star pull all his strength and his magic away from him.

Jongin dreams again.

In this one, he is sixteen years old and his mother dies of the Fever. Jongin watches his younger self through a haze and if he concentrated enough he could almost talk to him, to this younger mirror of himself. Jongin wants to warn him, not to touch, not to give up his soul. Jongin reaches out, lungs burning even without the effort of exertion, he screams.

Jongin wakes up to human touch. It is late afternoon, and he moves through the effects of sunlight coursing through his system like poison. He sees the human, Chanyeol, hovering above him as he lay on his bed. Jongin wants to curl away but even the tiniest of movements seem to zap the very life out of him.

“Mister?” Chanyeol’s voice cut through Jongin’s drowsy mind like sharp knives. “Are you alright?”

It takes everything and a prayer to a god he has long stopped believing to answer the innocent query. “I am fine. Do you require anything?”

Chanyeol’s battered face is a harrowing image. Jongin allows himself to feel this pathetic of a human trait, sympathy. The man has found Jongin in his most vulnerable state and perhaps Jongin can be weak for someone else, even just for a short second.

The sun sets, and with it Jongin’s senses resurface. He manages to wake, slowly rising from his bed. He carries an oil lamp which cast shadows onto his face. Jongin wonders if Chanyeol has already connected the dots, but he does not give any sort of indication to confirm the assumption.

“I want to thank you for saving my life.”

“Those people, they harm you.”

“I’m used to it.”

“I don’t like seeing you harmed.”

“I have nowhere else to go.”

Jongin does not fancy himself an empath. Over the centuries, he has nursed a most searing hatred for humanity and their weakness but hearing Chanyeol’s broken voice and looking at the long line of his bruised body, something stirs within Jongin. He does not acknowledge this, fearing that he knows exactly what it is that urges him to get close to this human, to protect him.

“You can stay here, with me.”

The tiny smile that splits Chanyeol’s expression is reminiscent of a heartbeat.

//

The tips of his fingers possess an ability far greater than anyone in his entire family. Jongin has always known that he has abilities, the kind that evoked fear in humans. He watched his mother, the only person he has loved beyond all reason, bring dead things to life.

“You do not possess this curse, my love.”

In his daylight hallucinations, his mother is nothing but a spectral. Jongin cannot make out the outlines of her face and the color of her skin. But he remembers her touch, her scent, and the way she told him that he was different.

“You are the only thing that matters most to me in this world. You are my gift.”

Jongin is nineteen years old. The ability dies with his mother but in the end, her words were a prediction.

He has seen the passage of time, he has lived through it. In his third century, he realized that there is something that could be done about sunlight. The potion is detrimental for it weakens him, starves him, but Jongin finishes the entire vial of blue liquid. When he steps under the dull shine of the sun, he does not burn.

“Why do you live in this place?”

They stand under a canopy of tall trees, the shadows masquerade the lifelessness of Jongin’s countenance.

“I find it peaceful.”

Chanyeol’s bruises have faded into the dullest shade of yellow and he looks at Jongin with wonder in his soft brown eyes.

“You’re strange.”

Jongin laughs and does not answer him.

Another week passes by, faster than a second. Chanyeol is restless, even though he does not ask questions. Jongin craves the taste of copper. He allows Chanyeol to leave, feeling idly unaffected as the human exits his home with the same shabby clothes on his back.

Jongin feeds on another hapless victim, this time it is a man. He sinks his fangs onto a thick neck. His prey tastes like liquor and opium, revolting. Jongin merely lets his dinner fall to the ground with a muted thud, gasping for life as he stares into Jongin’s dead eyes. He dies and disintegrates into fine dust. The way he coughs his last breath almost seemed amusing.

Jongin is judge, jury and executioner and he deems this class of degenerate undeserving of a painless death.

The recoil hits and when his eyes see _Her_ and not blinding white, Jongin notes that it is not pain but pure and utter fear coursing through his body.

He runs, mind half lost in a haze. He stumbles into the clearing where his home stood like a foreboding reminder that he is not alone, that she still lives. Jongin shivers and he barely notices that light shines through the large windows.

The smell of baked bread wafts and sinks into every pore of his body. Chanyeol returned.

“What are you doing?” Jongin asks, voice unnecessarily icy. For half a moment, Chanyeol seemed scared to look at him but the expression melted off his face. Jongin deduces that he has projected his own fear to the human.

“Am I not welcome any longer?”

The expression on his face makes Jongin’s nonexistent heartbeat unsettle. He wants to protect him, the urge is strong, a compelling force he can barely stave off. Something commands Jongin, like it simply is embedded onto his very core.

He wants to scream.

“No.” The recoil and the fear curling in his gut make Jongin double over and he falls, legs unsteady. Chanyeol runs to help him up and Jongin’s embarrassment mixes into an odd concoction of unease that Jongin wants gone to the highest heavens. “I’m alright,” the vampire grits out as Chanyeol’s arms envelop his body. “Get off me.”

Successfully unnerved, Chanyeol removes his touch. Jongin immediately feels apologetic.

“I’m sorry. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I am fine. Are those people still bothering you, why did you return?”

Chanyeol does not answer. He returns to the pantry where Jongin has not been into in nearly decades. The place is decidedly clean, save for the flour scattered all over the wide wooden table. There are mounds of dough shaped into odd little pieces lying undisturbed on tin trays. “I hope you’re alright with me using your kitchen.” Jongin just nods. For minutes they do not talk. Chanyeol fretfully shapes more dough into bread, each piece progressively looking more and more haphazardly done than its predecessor. “I’m terrified.”

For a horribly long second, Jongin assumes that the human referred to him, the nearest monster in the vicinity. Jongin’s terror almost overtakes his entire being once again.

“They’re still there.” Chanyeol sighs and braces himself on the counter. “I can’t even see Sanha without fearing for my life and hers. It’s too much. Too much.”

Jongin stands there and watches Chanyeol’s entire body shake. He reminds the vampire of a tiny leaf blowing in a gust of strong wind, so weak, so helpless. Jongin’s urge to protect becomes unbearable, it is desperation clawing him with sharp talons, pulling him apart. He wants to ask the human a single question: _Who are you? _

It is a possibility that in some sort of twisted way, Jongin might have known Chanyeol in his past life, when he was human himself, when he breathed and ate and laughed and felt. When he was a man and not merely a hollow shell of what he had been, of what he was once. It is the only explanation to these unpleasant urges, and maybe he is indeed cursed for he cannot stop himself from caring. Either way, he had baited himself when he dragged Chanyeol into his life without a single precedence.

“Do you want some?” Chanyeol turns to the clay oven and pulls a metal tray full of fresh bread. The human calmly places it onto the marble counter. Jongin shakes his head. “Thank you. You can have them. I don’t want to eat.”

“Oh.”

“Listen, Chanyeol.” Jongin begins as he finally enters the kitchen. He stands under the glare of the lamplight completely ignoring the light burn over his skin. “Stay here, as long as you want. You are safe here until those people stop harassing you.” _until I kill them. _“Stay and do as you wish.”

It takes a long time for Chanyeol to even muster anything to say. He looks at Jongin with glassy eyes but he never cries. “Why are you doing this? Why do you care so much?”

Driven with the same compelling urge, Jongin brings his palm to Chanyeol’s cheek. Freezing skin meets warmth, nobody moves. “I don’t know.” Jongin says.

“I feel like I know you.” Chanyeol leans into Jongin’s touch, gaze never straying. “I’ve met you before. You were stranded in the rain so I invited you to my house.”

“You did.”

“But I know you, from before. You’re familiar.”

The statement sends a tingle down Jongin’s spine. He refuses to address it and now Chanyeol has caught on to this peculiar connection between them. Maybe Chanyeol has been in his dreams for some odd reason Jongin has yet to discover. “You mistake me for somebody else. I do not know you.” 

“But why do I feel like this? It’s almost painful.”

Nights in this place is ever silent, broken only by the sound of small animals running about. Jongin closes his eyes and he can hear almost everything, even the rush of Chanyeol’s blood, his heartbeat. It reaffirms that Chanyeol is indeed human, and Jongin can simply break him in one easy snap if he wanted to. He can stop this niggling curiosity, once and for all. 

Because Jongin should never involve himself with humans,_ She_ deemed it so.

He removes his touch and turns his back. “Go to sleep Chanyeol.”

In his pitch dark chambers, Jongin drinks another vial of poison. Later, he will walk under sunlight.

//

They find Sanha prowling the market place, begging for scraps. The little girl is a single cough away from death; her features emaciated beyond utter belief. Jongin watches an entire spectrum of emotions cross through Chanyeol’s face as he bends down onto the filthy ground. The human calls for Sanha and the little girl immediately recognizes the voice. She runs into Chanyeol’s arms and cries in relief.

Jongin’s gut twists and his skin burns, not because of the sunlight but because of something horribly akin to sympathy.

“Where have you been?” Sanha weeps into the junction of Chanyeol’s neck. “Mother is dead and father ran away! I am alone.”

“I’m sorry darling.” Chanyeol runs his palms so gently down the girl’s back, as if one wrong touch might shatter her bones. “I’m here now, I’m not leaving.”

They buy some bread and fruit and Sanha devours the given meal in absolute desperation. She looks at Chanyeol with such gratefulness. He is her personal saviour who had come down from the heavens to rescue her from an inevitable death. Jongin likes the sentiment.

“Can we bring her back?”

Jongin deems it unfair that Chanyeol looks at him with such an open gaze. He can read every little thing simply from the way Chanyeol’s eyes crinkle at the corners, or when they glint to signal his happiness, when his pupils dilate to indicate something along the line of pleasure. It is impossible to put him down, to say no. Unknowingly, Jongin spirals further into a chaos of his own creation.

The vampire peels a piece of grape for the child, and nods.

//

The dream is almost palpable; Jongin can step in and live through it.

Like everything else, this place is unfamiliar. It is a decrepit town, filthy and crippled by disease. His feet sink under darkened sludge; the scent is despicable; the very air reeked of decaying organic matter, putrid. It burns his lungs.

Jongin walks through vermin infested streets, where emaciated children batter each other to death for food that is near spoiled. He feels sympathy, and anger, and pain.

Jongin realizes that in this dream, he is human, and he feels human emotions. It must have been a lifetime ago. He wonders if it is a hallucination or a memory.

He enters a shanty. Water drops though the cracked roof, and the floor is thick with mud. A single candle illuminates a woman spread prone on a bed. Her body shakes like a tiny leaf, the Fever made her shiver and sweat at the same time. Jongin assumes she only had a day left, probably a couple if the gods skip her name on the wheel.

Yes it is nothing but a hallucination, for Jongin never believed in a god.

An equally emaciated man squats on the foot of the bed. His skin stretches through the bones of his face. He resembles a phantom, a living one and that made him even more frightening. “Save her.” He begs.

Jongin sees himself move. He hides his magic through bottles of random leaves submerged in water. He has been successful so far. In reality, the concoctions do nothing, for it is the peculiar energy that pours through the tips of Jongin’s finger that made bodies recuperate. Unlike his mother, he cannot bring the dead back to life, but he can heal people. He can heal living things, not merely inclusive to humans.

This very magic brought him to _Her._ His power attracted _Her. _

_ _

Jongin wakes.

Faster than the eye can see, his fingers close around a neck. He does not think when he lunges out of his chambers and go straight through the large glass windows that opened to the forest. He still holds the creature by its neck and only when he slams it into the wide girth of the ancient Oak tree does the creature move. The creature laughs. Jongin snarls and pushes it down to the ground. “Give me one good reason not to fucking snap your neck right now, Sehun.”

“Can’t you spare me a decent greeting _brother? _We haven’t seen each other in nearly a decade and the first thing you do is bury me to ground and threaten to snap my neck. I am extremely offended.”

“What are you doing here?” Jongin bares his fangs, eyes shining a dull red. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

And just like how he materialized in Jongin’s chambers without Jongin sensing him, Sehun disappears. Behind him, the other vampire casually shakes mud and leaves off his person. Jongin wants to dig his nails onto Sehun’s throat.

“So, you’re now feeding humans instead of feeding on them. How very peculiar, Jongin. Though, I can’t say I’m surprised. You can’t really shake off your strange tendencies no matter how many times you wipe your own head clear. The inevitable always, always happens.”_What in the holy fuck is this cretin talking about? _

_“Sehun.”_

“Fine, fine. Why the fuck are you so aggressive?”

Irritated, Jongin breaks a tree branch with his mind and bears it down on Sehun, on his traitorous blood brother. Of course, Sehun simply moves away, he has steps lighter than air. Sehun then drives a foot onto Jongin’s chest. “I didn’t come all this way to hurt you, Jongin.”

“You fucking liar.” Jongin seethes, and his mind does his bidding when it sends the forgotten tree branch on Sehun again. The latter gets thrown across the clearing with a very satisfying crunch. Jongin smiles. “After what you have done to me Sehun, cutting you in half will not suffice.”

And Jongin would have lunged in, dig his fangs onto his brother’s neck and drain him to an inch of his life if it were not for the oddly melodic voice that carried across the field. “That is enough!”

Jongin stares at the source of the sound and his anger ebbs away. “Junmyeon?”

Junmyeon is nearly a thousand years old but his body is perpetually that of a young man. Jongin recalls _Her_ stories. After all, Junmyeon used to be her favorite plaything. The older vampire was an elemental: he could control a raging ocean with his mind. It fascinated Her, and She often took Junmyeon to foreign lands, made him Her very own executioner.

Then Jongin came along.

Junmyeon embraces him. “I am glad to see you again, Jongin. It has been so long.” Jongin sinks into Junmyeon’s arms like he is home.

“Junmyeon, what are you doing here? And why have you brought that heathen along?”

Junmyeon chuckles. “I am sorry about Sehun.”

Sehun rises from the pile of broken branches Jongin had buried him under with a groan. “Just tell him Junmyeon. Then we can be on our merry way.”

“Tell me what?”

Junmyeon’s sanguine expression morphs to extreme worry, “She has awakened Jongin, and she misses you.”

With these words, Jongin’s spine turns into ice. Suddenly, he cannot move. “Does She know?”

“One way or another, She will.” Junmyeon says, “Jongin, please do not do anything that will displease her. You know what will happen.”

In all honesty, Jongin is confused as if Junmyeon spoke in tongues. He does know Her and the power She has over Jongin that the mere mention of Her idea, of Her existence, seemed to stab a silver dagger right into Jongin’s undead heart.

“Will you tell Her?”

“There is no need, Jongin. She will know.”

“And you’ll wipe your memories clean and once again, bury me in half and threaten to snap my neck. I’m really fucking tired of this, every time. Every fucking time. Make it stop.”

Jongin’s head feels like it is trying to split in half.

“Sehun that is enough.” Junmyeon warns and he turns to look at Jongin. His pale visage is stark even swathed in darkness. “We have to go now, Jongin. Please look after yourself.”

And they are gone.

//

He wonders if he will get used to the ever present burn of a sun that is barely even there. It stings the flesh of his back despite the heaviness of his dark, thick clothing.

Jongin lets his mind wander as he watches Chanyeol. The human successfully makes himself a fixture of Jongin’s house, wandering about and disturbing the dust that covers every available surface. Sanha, the child, tails Chanyeol almost like a loyal animal. She has gained weight, looking a lot thicker than the the skeleton she had been.

“Mister Jongin, do you not feel heat?”

He looks down upon a pair of doe eyes, shining with childish naivete. Jongin grins and says, “I do not.”

From across the garden, Chanyeol sprays his newly sprouted Gladiola with water. The baker’s face is open and honest, his happiness shows through the outlines of his mouth, upturned into a pleased smile. It is somehow familiar, when Jongin closes his eyes he could almost dream of Chanyeol. Jongin still ponders upon Sehun’s ill concealed threat and Junmyeon’s cryptic words. And like She can see him, Her face flashes through Jongin’s mind, Her image permanently burned behind his eyelids.

It is horrifying, distressing. Thoughts of her suck the very magic that sustains Jongin’s existence. He feels weak, his bones hollow. Chanyeol’s voice abruptly pulls him back, Jongin fights the urge to gasp.

“Are you alright?”

Jongin nods, surveying the streak of mud across the human’s cheek. “You always see me in awful situations.”

Chanyeol frowns, “I know. It’s unnerving.”

“I’m fine, Chanyeol.”

//

Jongin dreams again. This time he knows it is a memory.

It is the first time She walks into his life. Even in Jongin’s dreams, She is beyond beautiful. Her skin is the most faultless shade of alabaster, her eyes the color of emerald, her hair as dark as night. Jongin was human then and his heart heart felt like it was going to claw its way out of his very ribcage, pounding so hard he could hear the frantic rush of his own blood.

He loved Her. There was no mistaking, it was not some hallucination She had manipulated his mind with, he was not hypnotized. It was the truth, heavens, Jongin loved Her. She had this aura about her that pulled Jongin ever closer, inevitable as gravity.

Jongin thought, She was kind. She walked through filthy streets, Her blue dress dragged through mud and never once did She care. The damned looked at Her as if She was a goddess. And maybe She was. She dropped to the ground and fed the hungry, smiled at young children and brought them fanciful little things that distracted them from the horrifying truth of their situation.

Jongin was enamored, painfully. He gravitated towards Her, allowed Her to instigate his own damnation.

Oh, how he had been fooled.

Jongin snaps his eyes open, a muted gasp leaving his lips. It is night time for his fingertips buzz with unspent energy. His fangs itch, wanting to feed. But Jongin does not indulge his body’s whims and as soon as his mind reorganizes itself, the urge melts away. It is here that a knock reverberates and breaks the quiet of his chambers. Jongin leaves the bed and heads for the door. He sees Chanyeol, standing on the other side of the frame, his knuckles still poised as if to knock. With a sheepish grin, Chanyeol greets him.

“I’m going to take Sanha to gaze at the sky tonight, it’s a full moon and a clear night after a very long time. Do you wanna come?”

Full moons or clear skies do not interest Jongin, but he nods and follows the baker out anyway.

The sky is indeed clear, a dark canopy that glittered with stars and a moon that shone brightly. It does not stir Jongin the slightest, he has had enough of stars in his existence. What he watches is Chanyeol, who has Sanha sitting on his shoulders. Sanha stares at the sky with a face full of endless wonder. Jongin thinks of how fragile they actually are, how fragile life is in general.

Jongin is lost in his thoughts and yet he hears the silent crunch of leaves when Sanha is put to the ground. Chanyeol bends down to the girl’s height and he points heavenwards, to the constellations mapping the boundless night sky. Jongin hears his low whispers, _That’s Andromeda and Pegasus and that’s Aquarius._ A__nd he tells her of fanciful myths Jongin remembers from a long, long time ago.Sanha giggles, the sound carrying throughout the clearing, unusually loud.

“It must be nice to live in the stars.” Sanha muses, her head lolling to Chanyeol’s shoulder as she tries to viciously fight the clasps of sleep. “Mister Jongin, do you want to live in the stars?”

Jongin finds himself smiling, he caresses Sanha’s now plump cheek, cold finger on warm skin. “I do. I want to live in the stars with a great legend as my memory.”

Sanha yawns, “I’d like to see your stars too, mister. You and Chanyeol’s stars must be beautiful.” Jongin watches the little girl fall asleep, her vitality still as vivid even in unconsciousness.

Chanyeol heaves the girl into his arms and stands to his full height. For minutes they remain silent, merely watching the enviable twinkling of the stars. Then suddenly, Chanyeol says with a voice that is still as the night. “I dream of you.”

Jongin turns, the movement finely inhuman. “What do you mean?”

“I see fragments and they feel real in the sense that I wouldn’t have ever conjured them through imagination alone.”

The vampire hears the human’s heartbeat, pounding slightly faster. Under the moonlight, Chanyeol resembles a wax figure, ashen except for the splash of pink coloring his face. “Are they good dreams?” Jongin hides the panic in his voice. It must be Her doing.

The human, who never minces his words, stumbles through his statement. “I-I, they’re alright. But, sometimes they uh, they terrify me.”

Fear goes through Jongin like the sharpest of spears, tearing through his body that he felt physical pain. For half a moment, he thought he would look down and see his blood dripping.

“What do you see in these dreams, Chanyeol?”

“You. Us. Like I knew you, from different lifetimes. You always look the same, the sound of your voice, your _touch._ It felt so real, Jongin. Like I could just reach out and hold you. They were peaceful dreams.”

His sentence hang unfinished, Jongin prods him until he continues, faltering over his words. “Then nothing. I don’t think they mean anything anyway.”

Jongin draws the human’s face to his. “Chanyeol, tell me the rest.”

Chanyeol averts his eyes. “I see myself die, Jongin. Every time.”

If Jongin can breathe, the statement would have knocked the very air out of his lungs. “There is no escaping it. And then I wake, in tears. But the tears aren’t from me, nor for me. I can feel someone else’ grief.”

Jongin inhales and in the steadiest tone he could muster he says, “Listen Chanyeol, as long as you are with me. I will protect you.” _With my life, if it came to it._ Chanyeol lets out an exhale. He presses his face onto the juncture of Jongin’s neck and shoulder and breathes.

“You’re not exactly human, are you?” Chanyeol whispers. Jongin’s body gains an unnatural rigidity, and he hopes Chanyeol will not run away in disgust, in _fear._ With the hand that is not cradling Sanha’s small body, Chanyeol pulls Jongin closer. Jongin sags against him, unable to fight the force that attracted him to Chanyeol, force stronger than gravity itself. “I am not. I can kill you with my bare hands.”

Chanyeol smiles, Jongin can feel the curl of the human’s lips against his skin. “If you wanted me dead, you would have acted it to fruition, a long, long time ago.”

“Do you not fear me?”

“I do, but not because you may kill me. No. I don’t think you’re capable of that. I’m terrified of you because I think that I may have known you, and that something happened. Something that I do not know. Each time I get into some sort of epiphany, it evades me. It’s frustrating.”

Jongin curls his icy fingers against the skin of Chanyeol’s back, now soft that he has more meat on his bones. “I am sorry Chanyeol, I do not have the answers you are looking for.”

The man chuckles, Jongin hears it. So, alive. “It’s alright, Jongin. We’ll be alright.”

When they part, Jongin almost cries out. His body immediately longs for the heat casting off Chanyeol’s. Jongin has been cold for nearly half a millennium, why does it suddenly matter now?

His head aches. They walk back to the house; the lamps illuminating the doorway are nearly dying. Jongin ushers the human inside first and muttering excuses of reigniting them before he can follow. Chanyeol only nods.

He might have deduced that Jongin is not human and for now, that is enough. Jongin can elaborate just what kind of monster he is, some other day, when his mind is not churning like a stormy ocean, when his thoughts do not overlap into each other, until he feels that he is already in control of his own being.

//

They do not speak of that night. Jongin appreciates this for he does not like to be reminded of his own weakness, that even underneath the impenetrable magic that gave him immortality, he was still human once upon a time and he felt human emotions.

Emotions that eventually caused his own demise.

Days turn into weeks, weeks change into months. In the blink of an eye, half a year passes. Chanyeol is almost a permanent fixture in this stretch of Jongin’s life. Chanyeol is Jongin’s personal sun, he burns in Chanyeol’s presence; he revolves around him.

One time, Jongin overhears Sanha and Chanyeol talk in the pantry. Sanha is on the granite counter, stretched like a cat over a dais as Chanyeol braids her hair.

“It will be my naming day soon.” Sanha giggles, childish. The sound of it used to grate at Jongin’s ear but now, it is more of a lullaby. Chanyeol laughs, his deft fingers expertly weaving through the strands. “Is there anything you want, princess?” Chanyeol asks.

Sanha nods excitedly, “Do you remember that tall pastry you made for Jin’s naming day? I want one of that, we can put flowers in it. Orange and yellow and red flowers. I think it will be pretty.”

“Orange, yellow and red huh?” Chanyeol rubs his chin and pretends to think. It is rather comical of him. “Let’s see if I have that sort of magic.” Sanha’s eyes shine when they turn to Chanyeol’s face. Jongin sees this and it puts a small grin on his lips.

Chanyeol comes to him later. Jongin duly notes the differences in Chanyeol’s face. He looks infinitely better than the first time Jongin had seen him. Then, he had skin that pulled tightly across the planes of his bones. His complexion had been ashen and his hair had been dull. Jongin truly did not understand what had drawn him to the baker in the first place.

But now, as he looks upon Chanyeol’s face, an epiphany comes to him for Chanyeol is indeed beautiful. The baker has on a hesitant expression, eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly down-turned. “It’s Sanha’s naming day soon. She wants a cake, do you mind if I go back to the bakery to get some of my utensils?”

Jongin looks at him, notices the way he twists his fingers like he is not sure what to do with them. He cups Chanyeol’s cheek and smiles, “I do not own you, Chanyeol. You can do whatever you want, just please do not compromise your safety.” 

“Thank you.” He leans into Jongin’s touch and returns the smile. “Do you want to come with me?”

“That would be great.”

//

Without the scent of bread wafting from the building, the bakery did not seem to be anything more than a shoddily built establishment like the rest of which littering the marketplace. It looks depressing somehow, with its barred windows and vandalized walls, a place that fit right into this haunted town. Chanyeol bravely tries to pretend that everything is alright but Jongin can read him so easily now. He notices the slight down turn of lips and those eyes that momentarily lose their shine.

“Do you have your keys?”

Chanyeol nods. “I feel like it’s been closed for ages.”

“If it bothers you much, there should be no need to come back here to get your things. I will be more than happy to buy you new ones.” 

The man lets out a chortle saturated in sarcasm, “Thank you but I’m fine. It’s not like I could do anything about it now.”

Chanyeol does not say anything more. They enter the shop through the backdoor and they come upon pots and baking trays messily scattered on the countertop. Jongin takes a sweeping glance and immediately notices the state of disarray the bakery is in. The floor is white with flour and littered with shards of broken glass, the drawers and cupboards are tossed empty, bottles and condiments shattered and smeared all over the walls.

As he should be, Chanyeol is devastated. He sucks in a breath and tries not to let the tears spill. As Jongin watches the human, anger boils hot beneath his skin.

The baker methodically picks up his chosen utensils with shaking fingers, steps nimbly navigating through the mess on the floor. Jongin wants to shred whoever had done this into their last atom.

Chanyeol picks up on his darkening mood for he steadily claps Jongin in the back. He conjures a grin in hopes to convey that everything is alright. But it is too late for that for Jongin’s blood sings of barely suppressed violence.

“I’m alright.” The human reiterates against the desperation visible through his eyes. “Really, you need to calm down.”

“Do I scare you?” Jongin manages, tone low and dark.

Chanyeol stares and then he shakes his head. “No. But I don’t want you to worry about me. Though I appreciate that you’re here, I can deal with my own problems.”

Jongin’s exposed skin burns from the vestiges of sunlight shining through the cracks between the wall. He volleys Chanyeol’s gaze and draws the the human to his body. “I am sorry. I do not know why I act like this around you.”

Chanyeol sinks into his arms like eroding sand. “I’m not afraid of you.”

The words meant the world to Jongin so he tightens his hold and hopes that he can keep Chanyeol safe, even from Her.

//

The images are vivid, devoid of the usual haze that clouds over Jongin’s mind when he is dreaming.

It was Spring when Jongin met Her for the first time, she came to him like the most beautiful of roses reaching towards the sun. She was the most ethereal human being, Jongin had ever seen.

“I have heard a lot of things about you, healer.”

Jongin stumbles into the trap laden with the sweetest of words and the softest of touches. He falls in love, then and there. There was a certain glint to her eyes when she spoke, Jongin should have known, he should have known.

“Is that what the people call me?” Jongin’s sanguine tone rings clear, never once did he belie his emotions.

She laughs. “Yes and I want to know what sort of abilities you possess.”

His first mistake was this.

He tells her thinking that she would simply gloss over the truth and decide that it is far too supernatural to be considered anything but real. Jongin takes the very first step to his own demise when he crouches down to the ground, touches a dying flower and makes it bloom under his fingertips.

“You said it yourself, I am a Healer.” 

“Magnificent.”

Her voice is where her power lie, magic laces every syllable uttered by blood red lips. Jongin is unaware and he ignores the blaring warnings dictated by his own mind. _Run, fucking run. _

“You are a gift.”

There is an unmistakable pull and Jongin never resists it. He steps closer and closer, mind clouded over with a haze that made him see nothing and hear nothing but her.

“Shall we keep him, Junmyeon?”

“If it is your wish, my lady.”

Jongin’s eyes snap open and before he could think, his body bolts. _Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol._ He moves and blends into the night, faster than the eye could see. In the distance, there are screams and the scent of burning wood is potent in the air. He reaches the marketplace, where the bakery steadily burns, pitch black smoke noticeable against the dark sky.

“Chanyeol!” There is a desperation in Jongin. He feels it curling in the deepest core of his existence, it made him feel almost vulnerable, almost human. Fear is such a peculiar thing in this way, it greets Jongin like a friend, long lost.

He runs into the building, the fire that scorched his skin burns less hotter than his anger. _Who did this? _He finds Chanyeol sprawled half conscious amidst the fire that raged around him, licking his skin. Jongin calls for him and he answers with a weak grunt. Jongin moves and he hears the crackle of burning wood, the only indication before the beams that held the roof, collapsed.

Jongin suspends the cinders in thin air, the effort tearing his mind. His very atoms burned but he wills it up and away. _Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol._ The roof ends in splinters as it hits the ground. Jongin barely hears the clamor of panic outside. He staggers towards Chanyeol, kneeling down and heaving him up.

“Where are you hurt?” Jongin asks, as if he still has the capacity to heal. “Who did this?” The latter seemed more apt. Whoever had done this, he wants to shred to pieces. Chanyeol does not answer. He leans his whole weight against Jongin, gasping.

“I will move us.” Jongin says. “Hold on to me.”

Seconds pass, painfully slow. When Jongin opens his eyes, they are in the clearing nearest his house. Chanyeol slips in and out of consciousness, and under the dull glint of the moon Jongin finally sees the gravity of his neglect. The human’s clothes are singed, his right forearm is almost scarlet, the skin hot. Fear courses through Jongin once again, far more potent than what it had been.

“Please.”

Gingerly, Jongin brings Chanyeol inside and lays his body on the divan in the unoccupied sitting room. He runs into the kitchen, mindlessly procuring medicinal herbs that he hoped would help. It had been so long ago, he barely remembers anything.

Jongin ignores his own pain as he tries to save Chanyeol. Everything seems futile.

He cries. His tears is acid against his own skin. It is a peculiar quirk of their kind, maybe a retribution for all the lives they take, another punishment in exchange for immortality. And maybe, it brought a miracle.

Before Jongin’s eyes, the burned skin heals. It is like an illusion, Jongin had to take another look. It is there, the scarlet slowly fading into Chanyeol’s original color. Jongin sucks in a breath, runs his fingers all over Chanyeol’s body. The human stirs and their gazes lock into each other.

“Are you alright?” Chanyeol’s voice is so, so low. His eyes lose focus. Despite this, Jongin sees his fear in the way he seemed to lean away from Jongin’s touch. It pains like a scorching recoil, though he has not fed in days.

Jongin musters a small grin. “I am well. You should rest.”

Chanyeol stares at him. “What are you?”

“A monster.” Jongin whispers, injecting hypnosis into his words. “You should sleep, Chanyeol.”

//

Jongin hunts.

He finds those adolescents he had seen that night and sinks his fangs onto their bony throats, merely for the joy of killing them. He does not feed but he basks in the feel of the life draining out of his victims. They scream at him, call him the abomination that he is. He does not care.

The violence possesses him, it is an insurmountable urge to destroy, to kill. For minutes, he does not think as he slashes limbs, tears into flesh, lets them bleed.

Jongin comes to covered in blood. There is a tingling in his spine, a whisper, the gentle giggle of a female - he wants to scream.

_I missed you, my darling._

Partially out of his mind, he staggers back. Equilibrium is not Jongin’s dear friend as he kisses the ground twice. When he reaches the clearing, he crawls towards his doorstep, even the glint of the moon seem to burn him. The heavy wooden door snaps closed, and Jongin caves to the darkness.

Jongin remembers how beautiful She had been. Junmyeon once told him that even he does not know how long She has been in existence. She is a fixture of life, a book holding the secrets of the eons. It did not take away the fact that She has been inhuman longer than any of them combined.

In their private moments, Sehun used to theorize that maybe She could not possibly maintain the same appearance. Maybe She was not entirely human. _She stole that face._ Sehun snickered. Jongin heavily chastised him for this though deep inside, he wondered the same.

Yet, there is a lifelike quality about her. She had a peculiarly human grace, she moved and lived and breathed. It is what had drawn Jongin in.

Jongin had been blind, for the very humanity She embodied is pilfered. She was obsessed with life and Jongin had been too late to realize that She took it from him. Over time, Jongin turned into something else, he felt his soul draining away bit by bit.

But She was beautiful and Jongin could not stop himself.

Maybe he gave it to her, he allowed it to happen so easily. When She sank her fangs into his throat and buried him to the ground, Jongin still thought that it was all worth it, for She is beautiful.

The memory haunts him. Sometimes, Jongin wishes to close his eyes and never wake up again for when they die, they become nothing. In nothingness memory ceases, in nothingness pain does not exist. Sometimes, he thinks about driving a dagger into his heart to end it all.

And then he sees ghosts of the very reason why he could not give up his own loathed immortality.

He hears a voice, its deep baritone placates Jongin’s mind.

_I will wait for you._

Before Jongin could see further, his eyes open. He is in his chambers and his hands are not caked with dried blood. He sits up and cradles his head as the onslaught of memories assault him. It is such a staggering reminder of what he had done, of what he allowed himself to do. Worse is that Jongin could barely bring himself to care.

He really is a monster.

It is dusk and the house is quiet. Jongin prefers it this way for he is not ready to face Chanyeol when he could still smell the blood of his victims on his palms. The quiet is alarming, and he is not used to it. The loss of Sanha’s excited chatter and Chanyeol’s booming laughter is frightening.

Jongin walks with unsteady steps completely unbecoming of him. He does not notice the floral yet unmistakably putrid smell permeating the air. Flowers and death. _Her. _

“My darling, I have missed you.”

The touch on his skin is unbelievably warm, human. Lifelike.

Jongin turns, ever so slowly.

She smiles at him, her lips scarlet, fangs retracted into her pink gums. She resembles a noble lady, elegant in her appearance, grace apparent in her actions, but it is her words that gave away just how inhuman She truly is.

He is nearly five hundred years old, strong enough to not feed for weeks and never go into bloodlust, strong enough to walk under the sun without disintegrating into dust. But Jongin will never see the day where he fights Her power over him. She can still send him to his knees.

He is Her favorite puppet.

Fingers wrap around Jongin’s wrist, urging him towards Her. Without a single qualm, She presses her lips over Jongin’s. The male does not fight the urge to shudder.

Sensing Jongin’s disgust, She pulls back. “You seem displeased to see me, Jongin.”

He cannot move. Every cell of his body bends to Her whims, his mind connected to Hers. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that how you address me after I sent you gifts? I am disappointed. I thought you urgently needed to feed, so I sent you a feast.” She cups his cheek, rubbing her thumb over Jongin’s skin as She bore her green eyes onto his. “But you merely killed them. I am surprised.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bloodlust is such a peculiar thing, don’t you think darling?” She says with a chuckle, “And you killed, viciously I heard. I am proud of what you are becoming.

Jongin has never craved to fade into nothingness harder than this. His previously parched mouth tastes like iron and something else, something putrid.

“What did you do to me?”

“You never learn, Jongin. All these lifetimes, and we still play this unending game.” She studies his face, eyes glinting. “Again and again we go. It gets quite tiring, and I am exhausted, love.” There is a minute change to her perpetually serene expression, a certain darkness. Jongin is afraid but not for his life. “You don’t yield, and he dies, he’ll always die Jongin. Yet, it doesn’t matter to you. It never mattered to you. You are such a baffling creature.”

As she speaks, the most recessed part of Jongin’s memory, opens. Like Pandora’s box, it shows him the images he has forced himself to forget. They are the most gruesome part of his lifetime all arrayed like horrifying portraits.

In each memory, he sees Chanyeol die and he simply watched in all of them. He stood there and let Chanyeol reach for him as he breathed his last.

“Do you see now, darling? You cannot do anything to stop his death for you are bound to me and I demand your ceaseless devotion.” She wraps her dainty fingers around Jongin’s neck and lifts him until his feet leave the ground. “And whoever dares take you away from me, shall meet their demise. They will come back, all with the same face and equipped with the lies you want to hear. But trust me, I will be here to end them while you watch. I warn you now Jongin, and you better clean your act before I get truly impatient.” With a swift flick, Jongin’s immobile body sails across the room. He hits a wall and crumples to the ground. “Do not test me, my love.”

Jongin watches her dissipate into thin air. His entire body aches from the onslaught of violence he had endured and inflicted throughout the last few days. The pain barely alarms him and all he could think about is her words, her threat. The memories singe his mind.

He can never keep Chanyeol alive.

//

Jongin thought long and hard, cracked open his own head to study his own memories. It was painful process; he had forced everything out into the open. The meaning of Junmyeon’s cryptic words finally dawned upon Jongin and he realized that they were not ambiguous at all. Junmyeon tried to warn him for all this was simply an iteration of things that happened so many times before. He could not cope with his own grief so he had wiped his own head clean.

Jongin is cursed with Chanyeol’s appearance all throughout Jongin’s lifetime. In his memories, their first meeting was within the tenth year of Jongin’s turning. Chanyeol was inevitable. He was someone Jongin direly needed when the confusion of his own immortality made Jongin question himself if it was all worth it. They had different names but they all had the same face, the same attitude, the way they spoke, and moved and breathed.

And they all met the same fate. If Jongin will not act fast enough, Chanyeol will die. Jongin cannot bear even the thought of it. It is better for Chanyeol to have never met him, than to watch him die because Jongin cannot resist his attraction. It is a cruel game the universe plays on him.

He is awake but the images are completely burned into his eyelids.

__“_Do you see now, you can never save him.”_

_The man’s body slowly succumbed to fire before Jongin’s very eyes. He looked at Jongin without a nick of desperation, he laid there and smiled. He mouthed words that Jongin never understood for all he did was scream in agony. He could not move. _

_Good bye. _

_“Look darling, this is what happens when you disobey.”_

_Jongin sobbed and his tears seemed to carve into the skin of his face. He did not stop. _

If he has to die to save Chanyeol’s life, then so be it.

_ _

* * *

There was no particular reason for the feeling, somehow Chanyeol just knew. He was fairly certain that Jongin is not as human as he looks the first time they met. But more than that, Chanyeol knows Jongin. There is a peculiar pull that seemed to draw him closer and closer. He did not resist it.

Until he had seen the woman that night. She had piercing green eyes and when she looked at Chanyeol, he could not move. Chanyeol stood frozen like a marble statue. She called him _plaything._ It took Chanyeol a second to realize it, _Jongin’s plaything._ Powerless against her, Chanyeol screamed and thrashed. She chuckled at him and as if the doors of hell opened, fire had started to lick the floor.

He knew he was going to die. He was sprawled against the floor, unmoving. He thought of Jongin and somehow, it brought him peace. When he closed his eyes, he saw images. They were so vivid, almost like memories.

He awoke to Jongin’s body curled against his. Jongin was…crying. His tears scalded Chanyeol’s skin in a way that seemed to be fire and ice at the same time.

“What are you?” Chanyeol asked, though he knew. He knew.

Jongin murders the wrong people and the once quiet town is subjected to terror. They have always been there, creatures like Jongin, whatever he was. They have always been there, waiting, lurking. Chanyeol should fear for his life but the need to learn the truth erodes whatever hesitance he had.

Jongin disappears. Sanha is devastated when Chanyeol breaks the news to her. Eventually, the loneliness crept into Chanyeol’s core and he could not bear to be in the desolate house. A few weeks before Sanha’s naming day, Chanyeol leaves despite Sanha’s protestations.

//

He meets one of Jongin’s kind. The creature (as Chanyeol begun calling whatever they may be) takes the form of a man. He had blue eyes and his skin is almost translucent.

“You are Chanyeol?”

The dull glint of the moon highlighted the creature’s deathlike pallor and even so he still looked so beautiful.

“I am. Who are you and what are you?”

The creature smiles. “I am Junmyeon. I like to call myself an elemental but you can refer to me in whichever way you choose.”

“Are you here to kill me? Like her?”

Junmyeon shook his head and within the blink of an eye, he had moved closer to Chanyeol. “I need to show you something.” Junmyeon’s blue eyes are hypnotic and Chanyeol does not not notice when he levitates and presses a thumb to Chanyeol’s temple.

Chanyeol sees _memories._ He sees himself and Jongin. He sees himself die, over and over again. He sees her.

Gasping, Junmyeon lets go and the connection is broken. Chanyeol crumples to the ground, clutching his head. It hurts, like his limbs are slowly burned and torn off. He wants to scream.

“What did you do to me?”

Junmyeon helps Chanyeol to his feet. “I showed you your memories, all of them.”

The last few months have been the most mind boggling phase of Chanyeol’s existence but nothing can top this anymore. He is hurt and confused and he cannot fill the void that claimed whatever is left of his soul and sanity the longer he does not see Jongin. But everything does not make sense, the memories, these people.

“Get away from me.”

“Chanyeol listen to me.” Junmyeon begins and something about his tone compels Chanyeol to obey. “Our kind exists in a fragile balance with this universe. We are created in death, we are not born. This wretched immortality takes our soul and the memories of the life we lived, in exchange.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you need to know this. Jongin is different. He was turned against his will and he remembers whatever it is that made him human. And that is you, Chanyeol. You are half of his soul and you need to help him because he is receding into nothingness, Chanyeol. He is dying.”

Chanyeol then understands why there is a gaping void in his core. He is losing a part of himself.

“Where is he?”

“He’s in the place where you left him.”

//

It has been weeks since Chanyeol last stepped into the familiar clearing that led to the house. He used to think that the place was haunting, as if it breathed, as if it was something alive. Even the tall trees that surrounded the place like sentinels had their own stories. The mystery that shrouded Jongin and his home amplified his beauty. It felt good to know that Chanyeol was allowed to touch and come near something that seemed so guarded that it was sacred.

But this time, everything is wrong. The place is dying.

He hurries inside, uncaring of the ear shattering noise when he pushed the heavy door open. Chanyeol calls for Jongin; he does not get an answer. Panic starts to claw at Chanyeol. He calls and calls, forcefully opens doors that led to rooms containing nothing but dust. Starting to lose hope, he wanders to the back of the house where the door leads to a path that ends in a glade. In there, he finally finds Jongin. Chanyeol approaches, futilely trying not to produce a sound. Of course it never works like that. Jongin can probably hear the loud beating of his heart.

Jongin stands there and he is so still. Chanyeol realizes that he should have noticed that anomaly long before he got caught in this inescapable ruin. But then again, everything about Jongin was hardly human; Chanyeol was not stupid, he simply chose to ignore the truth that was being screamed right onto his face.

"What are you doing here?" Jongin asks when he turns. Their gazes meet; Chanyeol holds his breath as he looks upon Jongin's pallid countenance. "Chanyeol, you should not be here."

Chanyeol does not answer. He closes the distance between them and Jongin bodily falls against Chanyeol. His skin is frigid and Chanyeol cannot stop thinking that he is holding a living corpse in his arms.

"You should not be here. She will come and I cannot save you. Chanyeol, please. I cannot lose you. Not again. I will rather cease to exist than watch you die again."

Chanyeol holds him, "You're dying. Jongin, please. You can't do this to me. You can't leave me like this." Jongin looks up and smiles. He looks so weak and nothing about him should be weak. "I have existed for nearly half a millennium, Chanyeol. I have seen the entirety of this damned world and I will gladly give it all up in exchange for your life. You do not deserve to be manacled to my existence. You deserve your freedom."

"You don't understand." Chanyeol's voice carries into the space and he hears his own desperation. "You need to live, please. What about Sanha? What about me? You can't do this Jongin, I'm not allowing you to fucking die damn it."

And maybe Jongin hears Chanyeol's unsaid plea and the rest of what _made _him. The compounded memories of his past lives, their voices screaming for Jongin to just _live._

_"Please." _

Jongin anchors himself on Chanyeol's shoulders and leans onto Chanyeol's skin. His cold breath blows against Chanyeol's neck.

"Forgive me."

He feels two things. The first is the distinct pain of __teeth__ elongating and digging into the junction where his neck met his shoulder. Fangs. And then, and then...bliss. Chanyeol's bones feel soft - porous; as if he will crumble into dust with a little tap. His strength drains as Jongin regains his. Arms go around Chanyeol's torso, stabilizing him as Jongin _takes. _

It feels like an eternity. The reel of memories Junmyeon had opened, repeats in Chanyeol's mind. He sees and feels everything. Fury, pain, joy, sorrow, _lust. _

Jongin's fangs retract and his lips cover the puncture wound on Chanyeol's neck. Chanyeol gets drunk in _it,_ whatever Jongin injected into his bloodstream makes his head swim.

Their connection seemed to be even more distinct. He can tap into Jongin's head and just _feel _him.

"What?" Chanyeol cannot stand upright. "What did you..?"

Jongin holds his face and Chanyeol simply leans forward and presses their lips together.

Chanyeol did not deliberately think about it but he can almost hear Jongin's want and it boils in his blood. Jongin is warm all over. Jongin's palms relocate to the back of Chanyeol's head, drawing Chanyeol closer. The press is insistent, bordering on painful. Chanyeol can tell that Jongin holds back, stopped by some unseen force that chains his want at bay.

But Chanyeol _needs_ and he wants to be wholly consumed by it. "Please." He pants into Jongin's mouth. __"_Please, please, please." _It is hard to put a name to it so he just begs and hopes that Jongin can pry into his mind and relieve the ache.

"I am sorry." Jongin's touches are impossibly warm. "I am so sorry." And he moves them. Space folds into time and in the blink of an eye they are already in the house' spacious sitting room. Chanyeol falls to the divan, dragging Jongin down with him. Chanyeol catches Jongin's stare and it takes him mere seconds to fuse their lips together again. He paws at Jongin's clothes and pleads for touch. Jongin presses his apologies onto Chanyeol's neck.

"Touch me, please."

Chanyeol complies. He feels peculiarly out of it but at the same time he has never been more attuned to his own body, the way it thrums after each reverent caress. _So warm._ Clothes slowly come off. Chanyeol's hands wander on Jongin's skin. His head is wrapped in a haze; he could not think past his need. Jongin's lips trace the column of Chanyeol's neck while his hands move downwards, working their spell on Chanyeol's body.

"I want -" Chanyeol moans. Jongin slots their mouths again, "I know. Please let me."

It is akin to a surrender. Chanyeol lies there and _gives. _

//

"Junmyeon tells me he's an elemental, so what are you?"

Jongin curls against Chanyeol's body, seeking the heat that radiates off Chanyeol's skin. They are naked, with only a thin sheet strewn over their limbs. Chanyeol smiles at Jongin's attempt to cease on touching.

"I do not know what I am. I guess you can call me a blood sucker or a monster. It is all the same."

Chanyeol chuckles. "Vampire then. It's what the books will say anyway." He kisses the top of Jongin's head. "Do you read minds? Junmyeon did something to me, he pried my brain open."

"I cannot. I can move things with my mind though, if that is your concern.” Jongin moves and lifts his body so that he can stare at Chanyeol’s face. He smiled when he leans down to leave small touches to Chanyeol’s face. Somehow, Chanyeol can feel Jongin’s sated need, a bliss so delicate it was barely there.

“Abilities differ within our kind but we all thrive on the same thing." Jongin continues, his hands still idly roaming down the plane of Chanyeol’s body.

"What does it feel like?" Chanyeol cards his fingers through Jongin's hair. "When you..do that?"

"It hurts." Jongin replies. "It burns. The recoil is a way of punishment for when we take lives that are not supposed to be taken."

Chanyeol draws Jongin’s face to his. He kisses him before he asks, "Did I hurt you?"

"You can never hurt me, Chanyeol."

Chanyeol smiles. “You healed me. Can you all do that?”

Jongin stares at him and for an ephemeral second, Chanyeol thought he had asked the wrong question. Jongin breathes, easing himself off Chanyeol and assumes his previous position. He lifts his left hand and twists his wrist as if he is looking at something Chanyeol cannot see. “My mother had a gift. She can breathe life to dead things.”

“Oh.”

“It burdened her. It was more of a curse than a gift. She never used it for anything more than her plants - she used to grow the most beautiful gladiola - it is a pity that she died regretting to not have lived the life she desired.”

“But why?”

“All I remember of my humanity was a life spent running and hiding.” Jongin turns to his side, facing Chanyeol he says, “We were different; we were hunted. My mother did everything to shelter me from the immorality of the humans she adored so much. She lived a short, mundane life.”

“Do you have it?”

“Not the kind that my mother had. I used to be a Healer. It was beautiful. I was a necessity and I felt powerful. But when I turned, the magic died with whatever made me human and it included my ability. I am not certain how I managed it when I healed you.”

_He remembers what made him human. You are half of his soul. _

They are subjected to a sudden quiet. Chanyeol's thoughts bounce around in his head. There are still so much questions left unanswered and he does not even know where to start.

He holds Jongin and he is so afraid of losing this, whatever this is. He stares past the fogged up window and notices the pitch black darkness. He thinks that it must be cruel to live a life shrouded in secrecy and endless fear.

He caresses Jongin’s bare shoulder, the skin slowly becoming cold. “Do you still wish you were human?”

Jongin slowly closes his eyes. “Everyday. I want to breathe, I want the recklessness that comes with being mortal, I want to grow old and die knowing that I have lived a life that I truly desired. I want to love so intensely knowing that everyday could be my last.”

“It must be lonely.” Chanyeol whispers.

Jongin gives him a mirthless chuckle, “Endless life without respite is nothing more than a punishment, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol’s chest aches. Jongin must have felt it too for he looks at Chanyeol with those eyes. He looked so alive then, the emotions on his face raw and harrowing.

“If I were human, I could have saved you Chanyeol. Your existence will never be tangled with mine and you will live a long fruitful life. But it is has never been like that for your blood has been in my hands and I would rather choose to cease to exist than put you through it one more time.”

His guts twists at the words. Chanyeol then realizes that he will never allow it to happen. He does not care. He could die over and over again if it meant that his and Jongin’s paths will always cross.

“I am half of your soul.” Chanyeol repeats Junmyeon’s words as their meaning finally dawns upon him. “And you are half of mine. You will always find me and I will always choose to have you through all my past lives and for all those ahead. It is because I love you, always have and always will.” His voice is low, a whisper. Jongin will hear it anyway, he will know it in his very marrow. “I’m sorry that I left. I was confused and afraid. I felt like I carved my heart out.”

Jongin presses his face on Chanyeol’s neck and mimics a shallow exhale. “I do not want to see you die. I will do everything to save you from Her. I can’t lose you again.”

Chanyeol does not tell him the truth that Junmyeon had given him a glimpse of his own future. He will die. Jongin can never save him.

But for now, they will bask in this idyllic peace and dream of a utopia built on the wings of a butterfly.

//

The next few days are calm. Chanyeol is at peace once again but at the back of his mind, there is a ticking for their days are numbered.

He gets nightmares of his own death, each progressively worse from its predecessor. He wakes up without Jongin most nights for the vampire has made himself a sentinel, guarding Chanyeol and Sanha when they slept.

Oh it is futile but Chanyeol does not have the heart to tell him. _I am dying and you cannot do anything to save me. _

_ _

_ _//_ _

_ _

__“__Today you are eight years old.” Chanyeol says as he leans down to kiss Sanha’s forehead. “And we are celebrating your life.”

Sanha is still half asleep but she managed to return Chanyeol’s greeting. She wraps her spindly arms around his neck. “Thank you Chanyeol for finding Mister Jongin.”

Chanyeol laughs, “Let’s go find him now.” Sanha nods, allowing herself to be hoisted into Chanyeol’s arms. They exit the chambers and finds Jongin in the pantry. The vampire looks weak as he normally does when it is daytime. Jongin grins at them and Chanyeol could not help but think that he will miss this when he is gone, this peaceful domesticity where Jongin makes him feel that he is no different, that they are not as different.

“Happiest birthday, love.” Jongin says as Chanyeol puts Sanha on the granite countertop. Jongin draws the child to his embrace. “I wish you nothing but happiness from here on.”

If only happiness is easy. If only happiness does not involve death and lives tangled so thoroughly with each other the universe itself wants them separated.

Sanha directs her happy smiles at the men before her. Jongin and Chanyeol, they are her family. Unbeknownst to Chanyeol and Jongin, her only wish is to keep this family for as long as she could.

But things do not fall into place that easily.

They bring her to the glade. It is the same place where they gazed at the night sky and Chanyeol told her of so many fascinating tales. Sanha wondered what her stars would resemble; she wants to look like a pretty flower.

But today, the sun glares. It is bright and warm yet her Jongin seemed to be out of it. The man looks weak, and he could barely walk without Chanyeol’s arms around his middle. Sanha asked why it happens and Chanyeol simply smiles at her and promises that that they will tell her when she is older.

They do not understand. Sanha is eight and she is old enough to know secrets. She does not force them to say though; maybe it is not a secret. Her mama once told her that sometimes, older people do not say things because they want it to be a secret; they hide things because they contain the truth and the truth is too hard to understand, even for Sanha who is a big girl now.

So she tries to be happy. Chanyeol and Jongin allow her to eat the colorful pastries Chanyeol had prepared, and let her run in the glade and enjoy the sunlight on her skin. She watches them: Jongin is leaned against Chanyeol and Chanyeol said words Sanha could not hear. Jongin then laughs and he turns to press his face against Chanyeol’s chest while Chanyeol ran his fingers through Jongin’s hair.

They look like they love each other so much and it makes Sanha happy too. She lets them be and runs, runs, __runs. __It takes ages for her to realize that she is lost. She has explored these woods so many times before and she is confident to know her way out.

But not this time.

The tall trees seemed to morph into the most frightening of shapes, they look like they are alive. The ground seemed to move from under Sanha’s feet, like it wants to open up and devour her. Sanha screams and begins to cry.

Then, Sanha hears a voice. The voice is melodic and it reminded her of her mother’s voice. Sobbing, she follows it deeper into the forest. Sanha stumbles upon a beautiful woman with the prettiest green eyes. The woman smiles and Sanha finds herself strangely drawn to the woman.

_Come to me. _

Sanha follows and her mind does not remember anything after that.

//

Panic claws from underneath Chanyeol’s skin like millions of ants slowly eating at him. He has been screaming for Sanha for ages now but the child have seemingly disappeared.

He blames himself. He should not have been careless, should not have thought that daylight would keep them safe.

Now Sanha is gone and Chanyeol would rather die if anything bad had happened to the child.

Jongin is slowly becoming inconsolable, Chanyeol watches him slowly shed what little humanity he had and become something that he is not. They know, She has Sanha.

They are coming in full circle; it is inevitable.

Chanyeol has never experienced such a dark night, something that truly hid whatever lurked in its shadows. He is afraid and he could feel it deep in his blood.

“Promise me that you will live. You both will live and be happy. You do not need to mourn over me, Chanyeol. Please.”

Chanyeol harshly pulls Jongin to his person and kisses him like he wants it to sear. No one is dying except him.

“Don’t.” Chanyeol breathes against the seam of Jongin’s mouth. “Don’t.”

And they leave. Chanyeol closes another chapter in his life and it all feels like he has come to the end.

//

This feeling can only be described as slowly detaching to one’s consciousness and focusing solely on the fury that makes one’s blood boil.

Jongin can feel himself losing it, he is unable to wrap his mind into anything that is not his fingers closing around Her heart. He will kill her, slowly, painfully. And if he is to die in the process, it will all be worth it.

The place where he came to be has not changed drastically since he last stepped into it. It must have been a century, maybe more. The place is a mansion nestled upon the foot of a mountain, right across a river that is most frequented by Junmyeon. The place is free of trees so the dull glint of lamps emanating from the house shined like a beacon from far away.

She is waiting.

Junmyeon stands in line for Jongin’s arrival. He knows what is going to happen, he must have seen it in his mind.

The elemental stood across the river where the once calm water gradually startled. “Do not do this, Jongin.”

And maybe he is out of control because Jongin manages to overpower the elemental. The force of the water slams Junmyeon back; his body flies out of sight. Jongin does not spare another glance even as Chanyeol starts to scream for him to stop.

There is no stopping this.

“Stay here.” Jongin looks at Chanyeol’s eyes, the same pair of eyes he has loved over and over again throughout the centuries and it pains him. “Do not follow me.” It is all he says before he turns and jumps across to the other side of the riverbank. 

She stands there, glinting under the dull shine of the moon who had recently made itself known. Jongin notices Sanha. The child is unconscious and her body is suspended in thin air.

“You really shouldn’t have done that to Junmyeon, my love. That was uncalled for.” She says, nonchalant. Jongin wants to dig his fingers into her skin, pull out whatever it is that made her exist.

“Do you honestly think you can save them, Jongin?” She makes a motion fully intending to make Jongin submit.

But Jongin’s head is clouded with too much fury that overpowered even her magic. It does not matter; Jongin is not what she wants. With another flick, the human’s body sails through the air. It is too easy. Jongin practically delivered the prey on her doorstep.

The human cannot live. He cannot. Her existence is bound to Jongin’s unceasing devotion and no human shall get in the way. If She has to raze the world unto the ground to keep Jongin eternally Hers, She will.

“I told you darling, this is a game we’ve played again and again.”

“No, it is you who do not understand, my lady.” Jongin watches Chanyeol’s immobile body and redirects his vapid gaze onto her green eyes. “I remember everything.”

The words threaten her, but she belies her unease. Her expression remains untainted.

“And what will it do when it will still cause the human’s death?”

“This.”

She sees when a dagger materializes in Jongin’s hands. She sees when Jongin stabs it into his own chest.

A bloodcurdling scream breaks out into the dead night. She falls to the ground, gasping. Every cell in her body shriveling in the most excruciating pain.

Chanyeol and Sanha descend, their bodies falling sharply. With the last of his strength, Jongin gently guides the humans to the ground, cushioning the impact.

_Good bye. _

She stands up and now Jongin finally sees her for what she is. A decrepit monstrosity. He twists the dagger into his body further, his mouth fills with blood.

She wails. “No, stop it!”

“My existence is bound to yours, yes.” Jongin whispers as he to falls to his knees, unable to stand any longer. “I could never kill you, my lady. I loved you once.”

She crawls to him. “Then do not end us. Do not.”

Jongin cries as he looks upon her. This time his tears do not scorch his face. “I gave you my life and yet you still took everything from me, again and again. Do you know what it felt like, when I finally remembered?”

Her appearance changed. Gone were the elegance and the humanity she embodied. In its place is a hollow shell of a creature. Jongin presses his fingers onto her front, nails breaking into skin.

“This is merciful than that.”

He pulls out her heart and she disintegrates into dust.

It is the end.

In these last moments, Jongin finally feels human. Gasping for his life as if he is taking in air to his lungs. He sees Junmyeon approach. Jongin smiles at his oldest friend.

“You did not see this happening, did you?”

“No, no, no.” Junmyeon frantically works his hand over the deep gash on Jongin’s chest. “You cannot die. You will not die. You have to hold on, Sehun will be here.”

“And what can our blood brother do?” Jongin is so weak. He could feel everything drain from his pores. “Take care of Chanyeol, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon is shoved to the side even before he could reply. Chanyeol hovers above Jongin and weeps when his hands come into contact with the blood on Jongin’s face.

“No, please. No, you can’t. It should have been me.” Chanyeol pleads gently drawing Jongin’s body to his. “You can’t do this to me. You promised, you fucking promised. You can’t - please, please, _please_ don’t leave us.__”__

“It will be alright, Chanyeol.” Jongin says, “I love you, do you know that?”

Chanyeol sobs.

Jongin fades.

//

Chanyeol is not sure how long he held Jongin’s body and cried. It could have been hours; it could have been a lifetime. Nothing makes sense and the void deep into his being bleeds and it hurt. 

He had lost a part of himself. He had lost the half of his soul.

“Get away, child.” A voice shouts before Chanyeol is shoved to the side. He crawls to Sanha’s unconscious body and holds the child against his chest. Mind numbed, Chanyeol just stares as the events unfold before his very eyes. “Who are you?”

“I am his mother.”

“But you’re supposed to be dead.”

“Creatures like us don’t really die, child. You should have known that by now.” The woman says with a gentle smile. “If I knew Jongin will end up with this fate, I would have never abandoned him. It is all my fault.”

“Please, save him.” Chanyeol begs. “Please don’t leave him again.”

The woman volleys him with a sad smile. “He is not exactly human, Chanyeol. He will wake again when the time is right. His body has to recuperate with the loss of who turned him. He will exist, but his rest will take years.”

Chanyeol stares at the woman. “What do you mean?”

“It will be a long, long time before you see each other again. And when you do, he will forget."

“Then so be it.” 

_He is half of my soul and we will always find each other. _

_ _

* * *

In the near future, humanity has evolved. Creatures of lore and myth turned out to be true and the years have coaxed them out of hiding.

It is 2025 and Park Chanyeol regales his customers with amusing stories. It’s a cold fall night. He’s on the podium set up in the farthest corner of his pastry shop, where he alternates between singing and reading.

It is October and he tells of a peculiar little tale wherein a human falls in love with a creature who refuses to eat bread. The patrons all stare up at him in awe. Chanyeol is a gifted story teller, apparently.

When it ends, he waves the people good bye and reminds them to not get sick. It’s here that he meets a curious vampire who’s been munching on a couple of red velvet cookies. The vampires particularly liked that pastry, it had vegan blood. Chanyeol is very proud.

“Hey.” The vampire greeted. “Your story resonated with me. Too bad the vampire couldn’t eat. Bloody poor thing, these cookies are the best.”

Chanyeol laughs. “Thanks.” He looks at the vampire again, “This is weird, but have we met each other before?”

The vampire shrugs, “I was about to ask you the same thing. But I do not think I’ve met you before, I just woke up from a century long nap and it’s been strange. Really strange.”

“Tell me about how strange it is over dinner.” Chanyeol offers, “I know a good place. Super vampire oriented.”

Something about the vampire’s smile is so familiar. “Sure. What’s your name?”

“Chanyeol.”

“I’m Jongin.”

In the distance, a water elemental chuckles.

_Finally. _


End file.
